


me, i'm sweetly burning up

by zhujungjungting (runswithchopsticks)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, the ass bow has finally made its debut on the ao3 floor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 16:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runswithchopsticks/pseuds/zhujungjungting
Summary: "...but around times such as holidays--especially holidays where he’s anticipating receiving things--he becomes a little more incessantly pushy than usual, and Seongwoo is perpetually thinking that he’s more like some random adult stuck with a greedy six year-old than a normal college student living with his (not at all) normal boyfriend."





	me, i'm sweetly burning up

**Author's Note:**

> hello and merry Christmas  
> I realize for many of you Christmas has already passed but in my defense where I am living right now it is still the 25th as I post this lmao.... I ALSO finished writing this at 5am of tODAY so yes I stayed up until 5 am to write you guys Ongwink porn for Christmas (why did I stay up until 5am? because your homegirl has been dying as she subs Idol Producer videos and attempts to meet deadlines for fics that have them)
> 
> (also hello did I finally write Ongwink pwp without Jihoon tears? wow)

Sometimes, Jihoon’s a little insufferable, Seongwoo thinks. Given, the kid is always in some sort of brat mode (with the exception of being around people like Seongwoo’s parents, because Jihoon is two-faced as fuck and Seongwoo’s 99.9% sure that his parents would rather have Jihoon as a son), but around times such as holidays--especially holidays where he’s anticipating _receiving things_ \--he becomes a little more incessantly pushy than usual, and Seongwoo is perpetually thinking that he’s more like some random adult stuck with a greedy six year-old than a normal college student living with his (not at all) normal boyfriend.

What makes Seongwoo and Jihoon such a great pair, people notice, is that they’re like a set of Newton’s balls -- where one has enough momentum and force to hit the other, the other will fly up and hit back immediately.

So, since it’s Christmas, and Seongwoo, being the fireball of fragile male ego he is, purposely buys Jihoon a gift that he knows is going to aggravate the fuck out of him -- well, it will, but only _for a short time._ Seongwoo bets that Jihoon will thank him later, smug bastard.

Currently, the two are sitting on their living room floor. There’s a mid-sized synthetic tree in the corner, and Jihoon’s currently in the process of meticulously picking at the wrapping paper on a present. Seongwoo is getting annoyed. He just wants to grab the box and rip the paper himself, because Jihoon’s taking too fucking long -- this is a present from _Hwang_ fucking _Minhyun,_ also known as it can’t be anything that important. Probably another pair of oven mitts and a variation of Spiderman shower curtains. Last year they received Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shower curtains, but Seongwoo hid them away because he’d much rather keep the transparent shower curtains they have now (yes, he’s that guy).

Seongwoo just sits patiently next to Jihoon on the floor, watching his boyfriend with bored interest. Sure enough, Minhyun’s gift is a set of embroidered hand towels (Seongwoo can already see their pure whiteness being tainted with the bright reds and purples of Jihoon’s terrible wardrobe as a result of being thrown in the washer). Jihoon makes his way down the present pile, and Seongwoo’s time is spent walking back and forth between the living room and various other rooms to place gifts in their proper accommodations -- Jisung gave them a hardcore stainless steel wine bottle opener, and that’s most definitely going to sit on the kitchen counter next to the cutting boards within an easy reach.

Saved for the very last is Seongwoo’s gift. He’s already laughing on the inside, and with his attempt at restraining a stupid grin from appearing on his face, his lips twist into some odd scowl. Jihoon notices this change, and there’s the crawling of dread up his gut. “Am I about to regret what’s in this box?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, definitely not,” Seongwoo quips, his voice giggly.

That just makes Jihoon feel worse, to be honest. Screw saving wrapping paper for reuse, he just digs his fingernails into the damn metallic shiny red plastic and rips, because he’d better get whatever damn nightmare this’ll be over with.

Seongwoo, noticing Jihoon’s sudden change in demeanor, becomes offended, and he audibly gasps, but the noise is absorbed immediately among the sounds of tearing paper and plastic at the mercy of Jihoon’s grubby little hands.

Lifting up the cardboard lid of the box, Jihoon freezes. Seongwoo leans over and stares at his face. Unblinking. Emotionless. Hmph.

After a period of extended silence, Jihoon slowly turns his head. “Are you fucking joking?” he growls, his lips curling back as he scowls.

“No?” Seongwoo replies, and now he’s back to giddily grinning, a chuckle at the edge of his voice.

“This is supposed to be a present _for me,_ ” Jihoon hisses, jabbing a finger at himself. “Is this a present for you or _for me?_ ”

“For you, of course!” Seongwoo exclaims, and he’s acting like he’s been hurt, palm pressed against his chest and an appalled look on his face, “Do you think I could fit into _that?_ I’m not a size small-medium.”

Jihoon audible growls, a low and rumbling noise arising from his throat. His teeth are slightly bared, eyebrows furrowed, but Seongwoo grins smugly and crosses his arms, leaning forward until his nose is practically sticking right up into Jihoon’s face. “I made sure that was the last present you opened for a reason,” he says, grinning. “Now put it on and go sit under the tree so I can unwrap _my_ last present properly.”

Jihoon looks like he’s about to protest, but instead he just sticks his nose up, pursing his lips together, and shoves Seongwoo harshly in the chest. “Then don’t just sit there when I change!” he cries shrilly, and now he’s about to punch at Seongwoo, so Seongwoo quickly scrambles to his feet and backs away. Jihoon, albeit rather small, _does_ punch hard, or maybe that’s just because Seongwoo’s strength is as fragile as his male ego.

That’s why he’s nearly slipping and carpet burning his way to the bedroom, crouching at the doorway and trying to peek his head around the corner so he can get a good look into the living room. But you know, having lived with each other for some time, Jihoon knows all of Seongwoo’s tendencies, and so that means he’s scurried over and stuck his pissed face in front of Seongwoo’s nose. “No spying,” he hisses, and Seongwoo can smell the chocolate Jihoon had for breakfast on the bout of Jihoon’s breath that assaults his nose.

Seongwoo just grumbles, muttering “Fine,” before turning around and stalking back into the bedroom, taking a seat on the mattress. Jihoon humphs, disappearing back around the corner, and Seongwoo pouts his lips out at no one while he waits.

He walks out a nice five minutes later, and the grin on his face spreads even more when he sees Jihoon sitting down next to the tree, looking like he wants to burn both it and Seongwoo down.

“Surprised you managed to get this on yourself without any help. And in a pretty short time, too,” Seongwoo says, laughing as he sits down across from Jihoon.

“You’d better get me out of this thing fast,” Jihoon growls, scrunching up his nose, “this shit is uncomfortable and I can already feel my wrists losing feeling.”

“Your wrists aren’t even bound,” Seongwoo points out, glancing behind Jihoon, “it’s just your elbows, stupid.”

Jihoon grits his teeth. His scowl makes his face wrinkle up, and Seongwoo thinks he finally looks like his mental age. “Just hurry up,” he mutters, turning his face away.

Seongwoo grins, crossing his arms and leaning back for a moment to admire the image. God bless Jisung, because without him, Seongwoo would’ve never been able to obtain such a nice, pretty, red garment; perks of one of your friends owning a sex toy shop, right?

Well, it’s not so much a garment as it is more of a giant silk ribbon, wrapped around Jihoon's neck, torso, and legs. It's designed and sewn together in a way that one could easily slip into it like a dress, as long as they knew where their arms and legs would go. The only way to remove it would be to undo the large bow at the back.

“Red is such a pretty color on you,” Seongwoo coos, reaching forward and hooking two of his fingers over crimson silk that's wrapped around the top of Jihoon's thigh and hip. The cloth scrunches together, as it's bunched into the crevice at the junction of Jihoon's leg and pelvis. Seongwoo tugs slightly, and the silk across Jihoon's crotch shifts, rubbing against his skin.

Jihoon grumbles, sitting stiffly and resilient against Seongwoo's pulling.

“You're wearing the bow, aren't you?” Seongwoo hums. “Turn for me, baby.”

“No.” Jihoon sniffs. “I refuse.”

 _What a brat,_ Seongwoo thinks. He crinkles his nose. “'No’? That's not a way you speak to your daddy, baby. Come on. Turn for me.”

“No,” Jihoon repeats, sticking his nose up.

“Tch,” Seongwoo mutters under his breath. He grabs onto Jihoon's hips, trying to lift him and pull him into his lap, but Jihoon automatically curls up his legs and scoots away from Seongwoo's reach. With his elbows and thighs bound, restricting his movement, he can't move far.

Seongwoo, realizing he's going to have to put in more effort to calm Jihoon down, presses himself up against his boyfriend, cradling a hip with his palm and pulling Jihoon in close into his embrace so that he can't escape.

“Hey!” Jihoon cries, violently trying to wiggle out of Seongwoo's grasp, but his struggles are interrupted with a palm right over where his dick is, only separated from Seongwoo's hand by thin red silk.

“Waah--” he begins, but his voice is cut off because Seongwoo's started to palm him, and Jihoon, with his nerves already strung, is having a difficult time keeping his senses straight. “W-What’re you doing?”

“Well,” Seongwoo begins, leaning forward and grinning against Jihoon's cheek, kissing him lightly, “baby, why would you wear this for me if you didn't want daddy to touch you? You know how much daddy likes to see his baby in pretty things.”

Now Jihoon purses his lips, a flush appearing beneath his eyes. He turns away from Seongwoo's gaze, letting the latter nuzzle into the crook of his neck, tonguing softly with a fluttering trail of wet kisses across Jihoon's jawline. “Look at you, you're already getting hard and daddy hasn't even touched you properly,” Seongwoo whispers, and he hears a soft growl come from Jihoon's throat, but he just smiles, because the next moment when he reaches under the cloth to actually wrap his hand around Jihoon's dick, he receives a delightful response.

Jihoon’s voice is stuck somewhere between a groan and mewl, hips stuttering as he fights the temptation to press forward into Seongwoo’s hand. “See?” Seongwoo whispers, pressing a kiss to the helix of Jihoon’s ear, the tip of his nose buried into Jihoon’s hair, and Jihoon purposely turns his head away, but Seongwoo still notices the fact that goosebumps have risen on the back of Jihoon’s neck, and it’s not solely from the chilliness of wearing nothing but silk ribbon.

Jihoon hisses. There was already little space between his dick and the red cloth, and with Seongwoo’s hand there, the latter’s grip is forced tight from the lack of room. If Jihoon shifts his hips even just slightly, there’s a sudden rush of stimulation to his cock, and he feels the blood beneath the thin skin of his cheeks flare.

“Good boy,” Seongwoo hums, his voice vibrating in Jihoon’s ear, “looks like daddy just needed to calm you down a bit, hmm?”

Jihoon opens his mouth, about to snark back, but there’s the edge of the fingernail of Seongwoo’s index finger, the only finger able to slide through the tight space between skin and cloth, teasing the tip of his cock. His thighs itch with the urge to move, maybe even close his legs, but the silk bound against his hips and thighs protests against his movements, cloth digging into his skin. It’s going to take him more effort to shift his limbs, and Jihoon can’t gather up the strength properly with Seongwoo stroking at his cock, a hand of his having slipped downward to cradle the inside of Jihoon’s thigh and nudge his legs apart.

With a firm grip, Seongwoo tugs Jihoon’s dick up, pulling it out of the restraint of the silk. The edge of the cloth digs into Jihoon’s cock momentarily, and he whines, fingers curling into the carpet beneath him. Once his dick has been freed, he sharply intakes a breath as Seongwoo can finally stroke properly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Seongwoo asks, hand pumping up and down, and Jihoon’s staring down at his thighs, fringe hanging in front of his eyes as he squirms in his spot, rocking back and forth unsteadily. The head of his cock is shiny, the little bit of precome that’d leaked out already having been smeared by Seongwoo’s palm.

“H-Hah--” Jihoon groans, his breaths coming out in puffs in time with Seongwoo’s fingers playing and rolling the head of his cock. There’s more precome beading at the tip, and Seongwoo swipes it up with a thumb, only to bring his hand up and press the pad of his finger against Jihoon’s bottom lip.

Jihoon’s eyes widen, and he slinks back, but there’s Seongwoo’s other palm cradling the back of his head, and with both tentative and forced lips, the soft pink of the inside of Jihoon’s mouth is revealed as his bottom lip curls, the tip of his tongue, kittenish and hesitant, laps at the liquid on Seongwoo’s thumb.

“Good baby,” Seongwoo coos into Jihoon’s ear, and Jihoon shivers at his voice. “Will you let daddy move you, now?”

Jihoon’s lips twitch, as if he were to retort. He still looks slightly pissed, which is typical, Seongwoo thinks, but Seongwoo’s slid on his devilish grin, which would make many people apprehensive under certain situations, but Seongwoo’s come to learn that it positively excites Jihoon.

“Fine,” Jihoon mutters after a long pause, whipping his head away, and Seongwoo chuckles as he places his palms on Jihoon’s hips and pulls him into his lap.

He runs his hands up and down Jihoon’s sides, receiving a slight tremble in response. The silk feels just as soft as Jihoon’s skin, although Jihoon himself is definitely much more heated than the cloth.

“Mmm, daddy’s already said this before, but red is indeed such a pretty color on you, baby,” Seongwoo murmurs, pressing his lips against Jihoon’s left shoulderblade, right where an expanse of ribbon runs across the bone. “Daddy should buy you more red things in the future.” He mouths his way across Jihoon’s back, pausing briefly to slide his tongue over the knob of Jihoon’s spine, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“Y-Yes,” Jihoon agrees shakily, and he shyly glances over his shoulder at Seongwoo. The skin around his temples and underneath his eyes are a pink-gold, but Seongwoo knows it’ll flush a deep hue of red later on -- maybe even the same scarlet as the ribbon wrapped around him.

“Come on,” Seongwoo coaxes, running his hands down so that they sit on Jihoon’s lower back, “bend over for daddy. Let daddy see if you’re wearing the bow.”

This time around, Jihoon doesn’t protest, although his movements are mildly hesitant as he gives Seongwoo a glance, lips upturned, before turning his head back and leaning forward. At first, his chest and shoulders are digging into the carpet, because his elbows are restrained, unable to lift his torso up, but Seongwoo loosens the large bow tied at the back of his waist, allowing him to hold himself more comfortably against the carpet.

The bow at Jihoon’s waist isn’t what Seongwoo’s looking for, however. He’s looking for a very _different_ bow. Finding what he’s expecting, he smiles, hands hot as they run lower than Jihoon’s waist, right over the swell of his ass, and Seongwoo places his palms on both of Jihoon’s thighs, pushing them upwards so that his knees bend. It’s a little bit uncomfortable, and Jihoon makes a strained noise because the fabric is digging into his skin, but Seongwoo calms him with strokes to his back.

“How pretty,” Seongwoo comments, and now his hands are resting on Jihoon’s ass cheeks. His thumbs stroke the two tails of the red ribbon that hang over Jihoon’s skin, right above his hole, pressing them against Jihoon, and Jihoon shivers at the touch of a foreign feeling against his sensitive part.

Seongwoo’s fingers follow the red straps attached to the bow. They wrap around Jihoon’s hips and right below the swell of his ass, keeping the red ribbon in place. “What a perfect present,” he muses, giving Jihoon’s cheeks a squeeze, and Jihoon shoots him an annoyed glance over his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, however, because now Seongwoo’s running an index finger up and down his perineum, grazing briefly on his rim, and Jihoon’s back quivers with his weakening strength to keep himself from falling and squirming on the floor through Seongwoo’s maddening touch.

“D-D-Daddy,” he squeaks out, voice muffled by his own desperation. He grimaces the moment after -- he hadn’t meant to say it, he didn’t want to just to spite Seongwoo (because who’s the person Jihoon holds the longest grudges against? It’s the person that’s staring at his ass right now), but it just came out of his mouth automatically.

“Hmm,” Seongwoo hums, “you finally said it, baby. What a good boy. Daddy should reward you, right? Even though you were being such a brat earlier.”

Jihoon lets out a breath. His cheek is pressed against the carpet, and he stares at Seongwoo with one eye over his shoulder, expression tense. Even with the silk ribbon restraining his legs, the quiver in his thighs is evident as Seongwoo mindlessly continues to stroke the skin between Jihoon’s ass cheeks.

“Here. Move forward, baby.” Seongwoo doesn’t even need to wait for an answer. He knows Jihoon’ll like this, and Jihoon himself is quite aware of it as well. There’s a fireball of dread in his stomach, because he wants to stretch his resilience for as long as he possibly can (really, fuck that bastard Seongwoo, yet then again, isn’t Jihoon already doing that?), but he knows he’s definitely going to be reduced to a blubbering mess within just minutes.

With a hand on each of Jihoon’s thighs, Seongwoo scoots him forward a bit, he himself getting on his hands and knees and moving backwards.

This is when Jihoon’s strength finally gives way, and his torso is digging into the carpet, a little rough against his cheek, where imprints will for sure be there later. He feels cold air brush against his crack, only to be warmed the next moment by the ghost of Seongwoo’s breath, and dear _lord,_ if there’s anything Jihoon loves more than himself, it’s being rimmed, and Seongwoo, that bastard, knows this all too well.

There’s a soft lick against Jihoon’s hole, and he digs his teeth into the carpet, muffling his cry, because Seongwoo’s tongue is both hot and cold at the same time. The moisture sliding across one of his most sensitive parts of his body makes his muscles tremble, and he wants to thrash his legs, but he can’t with the ribbon restraining him.

Seongwoo grins, the curve of his lips evident as he wetly kisses against Jihoon’s rim, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Jihoon’s hands gripping into the carpet, threatening to tear up the curls of polyester.

“Mmmph--” Jihoon whines, muffled, as Seongwoo pushes his tongue through the ring of muscle, teeth digging slightly against the rim, and the coupled sensation of rough scraping and hot moisture feels almost unbearably pleasurable. Even though he’s pressed against the floor, his back is arching up, lifting his hips up and giving Seongwoo easier access. At this point, he’s lost almost all of his previous spite, too engulfed in the way Seongwoo’s now exploring around inside him with solely his tongue.

Several moist noises later, Seongwoo pulls back, taking note of the way the pink-brown of Jihoon’s rim glistens with his saliva coating it. It flexes as Jihoon shifts his hips, as if the puckered skin were breathing, wishing for more from Seongwoo’s tongue.

Seongwoo curls his lips, pausing for a moment to gather saliva in his mouth, before leaning forward once again, wrapping his lips over Jihoon’s rim, and this time around all the saliva that he’d collected is being pushed forward, some of it slipping inside of Jihoon with the force of Seongwoo’s tongue, some of it dripping over Jihoon’s skin and sliding down his perineum. Some of it dribbles over Seongwoo’s chin, but he doesn’t take notice, because now Jihoon’s very visibly, almost violently, trembling.

The way Seongwoo mouths around Jihoon’s hole makes squelching noises, and they only fuel the pleasure that’s racing up and down Jihoon’s spine. If he weren’t so lost in the moment, he would feel sparks of pain on his back from the amount he’s arching it.

Seongwoo pulls back a moment later. “Daddy’s going to loosen the bow for you so you can get on your hands and knees, alright?” he says.

Jihoon just lets out some garbled whine as a response. He’s already bending his knees with the intention to lift himself up, but Seongwoo has to place a palm on the small of his back to prevent him from getting too eager.

A few seconds later, after tugging at the tails of the bow and re-knotting it, Seongwoo is rubbing Jihoon’s waist, murmuring for him to lift himself up. Jihoon can barely comply. His movements are shaky, and he can’t properly hold himself up on his wrists, so he settles for leaning on his elbows.

Since now Jihoon’s ass is in the air, Seongwoo grips onto both of his cheeks and presses another wet kiss. However, this time, he dips his head, licking a stripe up from Jihoon’s balls all the way to the top of his crack with the rough flat of his tongue. Jihoon doesn’t expect it, and he cries out as his shoulders tremble, back quivering.

Seongwoo can only huff softly and repeat his action. Once more, and it seems his hands on Jihoon’s ass is the main support for keeping the latter from collapsing on the floor.

Seongwoo’s palms skate down to the backs of Jihoon’s thighs, and when he follows their trail, he sees Jihoon’s cock hanging, hot and heavy. There’s a thread of precome connecting the head and the floor, having dripped down. Seongwoo does the first thing that comes to his mind: he immediately pushes his tongue through Jihoon’s hole again, but this time around, one of his hands wraps around Jihoon’s cock, and Jihoon’s hips are messily gyrating around. He doesn’t know if he should press back against Seongwoo’s mouth or he should thrust forward into the warm and slightly roughened ring created by Seongwoo’s palm. All he can do now is gasp and whine and moan while his entire body is racked with shivers, hips acting as if they were an entire other entity of their own.

If it were not for Seongwoo’s hands, Jihoon would’ve been collapsed on the floor by now. His body is pulsing with pleasure, the blood beneath his skin racing. Sweat has gathered as his temples and neck, and his hips jerk around themselves, trying to balance between thrusting into Seongwoo’s hand and rutting back against the wet of his mouth. He feels the pleasure pooling in his stomach, and his breathing is so rushed as his back caves and rises in time with his breaths. The way his nerves are being set on fire from the simple movements of Seongwoo’s hands and tongue is uncontrollable. The flame races down his spine and through his veins, and the muscles of his torso contract as he’s slowly being pushed to the edge.

A moment later, maybe he’ll be there. He almost can’t take it anymore.

Seongwoo moves his hand to stroke his fingers against Jihoon’s balls, and Jihoon swears he tastes blood with how hard he’s biting down on his bottom lip. “H-Hah-- daddy--” he groans, voice choked, and with the way his back is quivering, Seongwoo knows he’s basically at the edge already.

“Hey,” Seongwoo says, voice hardening slightly. He pauses his movements. “You can’t come until daddy says so, baby. Can you control yourself or does daddy need to restrain you myself?”

“O-Oh,” Jihoon murmurs, lifting his head slightly. His hips instinctively start to gyrate even more harshly, having lost stimulation from Seongwoo, but Seongwoo takes both of his hands away and Jihoon is left whimpering on the carpet. “I-I’ll control myself,” Jihoon stutters out.

Seongwoo smiles. “Such a perfect baby,” he praises, hands once again on Jihoon’s ass cheeks. At Seongwoo’s words, Jihoon feels that heat flare up in his stomach again.

Seongwoo slips his fingers beneath the straps of the bow, pulling on them and letting them snap back against Jihoon’s skin, a quite _smack!_ resounding through the air.

Jihoon makes some muffled, moaning noise. Seongwoo knows he doesn’t mind spanking, but it’s not something he could easily come from, so he just rubs over Jihoon’s ass with his palms, kneading into soft flesh several times, and he watches the trembling of Jihoon’s back calm. Soon, Jihoon’s breaths are slower, and his whines have become soft and lower, more like his natural voice instead of high and almost squeal-like.

Seongwoo places an index finger at the top of Jihoon’s crack. “Hey, baby, I’m going to get the lube now. Daddy’ll be right back, alright? Sit up too.”

“Oh,” Jihoon murmurs, looking over his shoulder, and he offers a small nod. Seongwoo helps him lift himself up by placing his palms on the small of Jihoon’s waist and pulling, and Jihoon is left sitting there on his shins with his palms placed between his knees, the red silk ribbon that’d been wrapped around him slinking off of his frame with the amount it’d loosened from his struggles against it.

When Seongwoo returns, Jihoon’s remained in the exact same position he’d been left in, except this time, his eyes are downturned towards the floor. When Seongwoo sits down, they shoot up and stare at him, large and glassy and shiny, framed prettily by his lashes. Seongwoo swears he sees Jihoon’s lips twitch and his jaw tremble slightly, which makes him look all the more _appetizing,_ and something in Seongwoo flares up -- it's that feeling he gets whenever Jihoon lets himself become vulnerable around his boyfriend, and Seongwoo's hands shake as he uncaps the bottle of lube and squeezes a bit onto his fingers.

Jihoon turns away, but Seongwoo's hand is in his hair, pulling his head back and his lips are on Jihoon's, coaxing Jihoon's mouth open with languid swipes of his tongue. The whines from Jihoon are swallowed down by Seongwoo, who easily slips a hand down and presses a slicked fingerpad to Jihoon's rim.

“Ah--” Jihoon's voice is choked in his throat. He trembles violently at the feeling of something chilly against his hole, a stark contrast to the warmth of Seongwoo's mouth. Seongwoo kisses down Jihoon's jaw, slipping in his finger as he does so, and Jihoon squirms at the adjustment, his hips rocking back and forth. Seongwoo can already feel Jihoon's walls clenching around a single finger. He still remains tight no matter how often or how hard Seongwoo fucks him, but Seongwoo likes it because when his cock is finally inside Jihoon, it feels all the more pleasurable.

After Jihoon's made himself comfortable, Seongwoo slips in another finger easily, and Jihoon eagerly sits down on it, but not without a slew of garbled noises as he does so. Seongwoo is tonguing right behind his ear, scraping his teeth over the hot skin there and biting on the helix of Jihoon's ear as he moves his two fingers, pulling and pressing them apart and stroking the soft of Jihoon's walls.

“Feel good, baby?” Seongwoo murmurs into Jihoon's ear.

“Yes, daddy,” Jihoon whispers back, his voice fading into a hiss as he grinds down on Seongwoo's fingers, already eager to take more than just them inside himself.

“So pliant just for daddy,” Seongwoo coos, and now a third finger is slowly pushing its way into Jihoon, who is shuddering and shivering with the mix of cold lube and the heavy heat of Seongwoo's fingers racking his body.

Now all three are actively exploring inside Jihoon. From experience, Seongwoo knows where Jihoon's prostate is, so he purposely avoids that area for now. He just tugs and pulls his fingers, pushing them in and out of Jihoon to stretch him, and Jihoon is meeting the thrusts of his hand with his own hips. Jihoon's rim flexes against Seongwoo's fingers, and with the way he's panting and moaning prettily, Seongwoo knows he's more than prepared to take in more.

So Seongwoo just pulls out his fingers, and Jihoon's whining incomprehensibly at the loss of touch, his mouth hanging open and face flushed, but Seongwoo's now shrugging out of his pants and underwear and Jihoon mewls at the anticipation. He's already lowering himself onto his hands and knees, the red ribbon pooling at his wrists and knees, but there's still that bow strapped to his ass perked up in the air, the red ruffles of it neat and pretty.

Seongwoo hurriedly squeezes lube into his palm and strokes himself. Jihoon, bent over in front of him, presenting himself willingly and staring shyly over his shoulder, is making Seongwoo unbearably aroused, to the point where he can feel the heat pulsing in his dick.

With a shuddering breath, Jihoon's back caves up and down, his rim contracting and expanding as he does so, as if he were pleading to take in Seongwoo's cock.

He doesn't have to wait any longer though, as Seongwoo's grabbing onto Jihoon's hips and pressing the head of his cock to Jihoon's hole.

“ _Please,_ yes!” Jihoon cries, as Seongwoo begins to push in, and Jihoon's back is arching beautifully as he presses himself back onto Seongwoo's dick, arms outstretched in front of him and fingers digging into the carpet.

Seongwoo bottoms out a few moments later, and he's grimacing and panting with the resistance to immediately pull out and slam back into Jihoon and watch that lithe body of his squirm around his cock.

But for now, he just slowly pulls out until only the head remains inside Jihoon, and then pushes back in at a somewhat faster pace.

Jihoon clenches around Seongwoo, and it's becoming an even more challenging test of self-control for the latter. Seongwoo looks down and he can practically _see_ how tight Jihoon is, but he stretches so, _so_ easily, accommodating Seongwoo's girth well.

It seems that Jihoon himself feels the same way, because he's soon rocking back against Seongwoo's thrusts with ease, and so Seongwoo finally lets the last bit his restraint go free. On the next thrust, he slams back in with as much force as he wants, and Jihoon wails loudly, his neck craned upwards. The bow right above his hole shakes with Seongwoo's movements.

Seeing the red ribbon move gives Seongwoo an idea. Without a warning, he grips forcefully onto Jihoon's hips, pulling Jihoon atop him as he sits down.

“Wh--” Jihoon garbles out, landing on Seongwoo's thighs harshly, Seongwoo's cock having never come out of him. His choked words immediately become a shrill moan, because at the current position, the head of Seongwoo's dick is pressed right up against his prostate. He pants, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Baby, ride your daddy,” Seongwoo instructs, his hands gently cradling Jihoon's waist. “You can do that for daddy, right?”

“O-Oh,” Jihoon murmurs, glancing over his shoulder, “yes, daddy.” He braces himself with his hands on Seongwoo's legs, and he shakily lifts himself up before dropping back down immediately.

Jihoon's cry chokes instantly. Seongwoo didn't even need to do anything, Jihoon found his sweet spot himself.

The next lift and drop is faster, Jihoon's thighs trembling as he hits that spot inside of him that makes his vision waver each time. Seongwoo has a gentle grip on Jihoon's hips, observing how the bow on Jihoon's ass bobs up and down with Jihoon's movements. It's such a pretty little thing, Seongwoo thinks, decorating the most perfect Christmas present ever.

With each of Jihoon's drops, his hole clenches tightly around Seongwoo's cock, as if trying to suck him in even more. The intense sensation is making the heat in his lower abdomen flare up, and coupled with watching and hearing Jihoon moan as he bounces up and down, the sound of skin smacking against skin evident, Seongwoo's senses are being sent tumbling into overdrive.

“Daddy, daddy,” Jihoon mewls, chanting the word like a mantra, “oh, I love daddy's cock inside me so much--”

Seongwoo can't take it anymore, he viciously digs his fingers into Jihoon's hips and slams upwards as hard as he can given his current position. Jihoon nearly collapses forward while keening, only kept up by Seongwoo's hands.

“You feel so good, baby, you're doing so well,” Seongwoo grits out, and Jihoon's pulsing around his cock hotly, insides protesting and trying to keep him in with each slide upwards Jihoon takes. Seongwoo is soon beginning to see white at the edges of his vision, and his thrusts are stuttering, difficult for him to keep up with his spiralling control and odd positioning. He groans, trying to keep up pace, but his body is failing him, the pleasure is overwhelming him, and he swears he tastes blood with how hard he's digging his teeth into his bottom lip. Jihoon's whining is even louder now, the noises he makes so drawn out and blissful that Seongwoo can't help but drown his ears in the sinful sound. It all goes straight to his cock.

Jihoon gasps and drops once more, his walls gripping even tighter onto Seongwoo's cock, and Seongwoo can't stand it anymore, his vision flashing completely white as he comes, spurting inside of Jihoon, the latter who cries out at the wet-hot that's quickly filling him up inside.

Seongwoo reaches around and grasps Jihoon's cock as he rides out on his high, and Jihoon, already having been so close to the edge, arching his back painfully, chest pushed out forward. With just a couple of strokes he's moaning desperately as he comes, strings of white coating his belly as his fingers curl into Seongwoo's legs, fingernails gripping into flesh. He trembles, body being racked by an insane burst of pleasure.

Several seconds later, barely keeping himself upright, he's finally beginning to calm down, still sitting on Seongwoo's cock. His chest heaves as he sucks in much needed breaths.

“Jihoonie,” Seongwoo says, hands squeezing Jihoon's waist gently. His voice is a little cracked and dry. “You can lift yourself off of me now.”

“O-Okay,” Jihoon shakily replies, and with quivering thighs he lifts up, letting Seongwoo's now flaccid cock slide out of him, before he promptly collapses onto the carpet. The ribbon, just barely hanging onto his frame, pools around him in a bed of pretty red.

Seongwoo takes a deep breath, leaning over onto an elbow to look at Jihoon next to him. “Don’t wrinkle the bow,” he says, with a stupid smile,  “I bet we'll be using it again.”

Now Jihoon's crinkling his face up into an expression halfway between a smile and a look of disgust. Seongwoo knows he's excited about the idea, but like always, he's ready to butt heads with his boyfriend at any time (as long as he's in a normal mindset).

“Merry Christmas, Jihoon,” Seongwoo hums, and he leans down to kiss Jihoon. “Thanks for wearing the ribbon and bow. Really, you look good in red.”

Jihoon grumbles, wrinkling his nose. “Thanks,” he replies, voice monotonous, but he still reciprocates Seongwoo's kisses. “Merry Christmas to you too. Now, when are you going to put that collar I bought for you on me?”


End file.
